


Melt With You

by Zivitz



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Bunker Fic, Cohabitation, Denial, F/M, Marriage, Moving On, Sort Of, they were roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:13:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25904143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zivitz/pseuds/Zivitz
Summary: Moving forward using all my breath / Making love to you was never second best
Relationships: Abby Griffin/Marcus Kane
Comments: 16
Kudos: 30





	Melt With You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Fennethianell](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fennethianell/gifts).



> My apologies to Modern English and pretty much everyone who's going to read this. For Fen, who prompted me with 'they were roommates'. Then this happened. I don't even know.

After a week of finding dark corners and pulling him into the bunker’s tiny on call room, Abby made up her mind. “Move in with me,” she sighed and his lips suddenly stilled against her collarbone.

“What?”

“There’s quarters for the head of medical, but I haven’t taken them because- because. There’s room for two. Move in with me.” She opened her eyes to find him staring at her with that expression he had, wide eyed and reminding her of pictures of chastised puppies she’d seen in books as a child.

“Abby-“

“Unless you enjoy your bunk in the mens’ quarters, in which case-“ she was cut off by a kiss, one that took her breath and made her toes curl into her shoes. She was gasping for air when he finally released her. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

-

They moved in two days later, though moving involved mostly taking their meager possessions from bunks in the singles’ quarters to their room. It was just as grey as the rest of the bunker and had little personality, but it wasn’t without its charm. There was a built in double bed and a closet in the tiny bedroom, a small bathroom, and a common area that housed a couch and a bookcase. It wasn’t unlike living on Ark, and there was some comfort in that.

They put away their clothes and toiletries in silence, a smile on Marcus’s face as he hung up a shirt because he could already hear Abby rearranging his things in the bathroom cupboard. He was verging on happy, which seemed inappropriate given the circumstances, but he couldn’t help himself. He loved her, and she loved him back. What more could he ask?

-

The sex was phenomenal. The walls were thick and their quarters closer to Medical than the bunkrooms so there was a measure of privacy that they were quick to take advantage of after so long being apart. The bed lacked the charm of the one they’d spent so much time in at the tower, but made up for it with its sturdy build and inability to bang against the wall. He was sure they could probably be heard in the hallway if anyone lingered by the door but frankly he was beyond caring. And so, by the sounds she was making, was Abby.

-

It took her by surprise when one of her patients commented on her houmon. She blinked in confusion. Her Trig was still mediocre at best. “My what?”

“Houmon.” The woman cast her eyes around the room as she searched for the words in English. “Your man. Very nice.” The woman gestured to her own face, and Abby laughed.

“Yes,” she said. “He is.”

Later, she grabbed the book Marcus had started for her with common Trig words and choked slightly at the entry she found in his neat script: “husband or wife, spouse.”

She lay in bed that night and stared at the ceiling listening as Marcus snored softly beside her. She twirled her wedding band around her finger and thought about the word _houmon_.

-

She spent the next day in a slight daze, and by evening he was frowning at her over their trays in the mess. “What’s wrong?”

She poked at her vegetable ration with her fork. “Nothing.”

“Abby, I’ve known you most of our lives. You can’t lie to me.”

That much was true. She flashed him a reassuring smile. “I’ve just got some things on my mind.”

“But you’ll tell me if something’s wrong,” he prompted, taking her hand across the table and peering at her under his brows.

It killed her when he did that. “Of course,” she said, and he left it at that.

-

It was late that night when she crawled into bed and poked his shoulder.

“What are we?” she blurted.

Marcus rolled over and rubbed his eyes. “What?”

She leaned against her pillow. “What are we?”

“Tired,” he groused and made to roll over again.

“I’m serious, Marcus.”

He sighed and propped himself up on his elbows. “Okay, what? What do you mean?”

She fingered her wedding ring and tried to find the right words. Finally she said, “Would you ever marry me?”

Properly awake now, Marcus sat up and stared at her. “Are you proposing to me?”

When she didn’t answer, he took her hand. “Abby. I would marry you in an instant, if I thought that’s what you wanted.”

“And what makes you think I don’t?” she challenged, and then followed his gaze to the ring on her finger. “Oh.”

“I’m happy. And I’d be happy with more. Whenever you’re ready. _If_ you’re ever ready.” He kissed her. “I love you, and nothing could ever change that. Marriage is just a technicality.” He tugged her down with him, wrapping an arm around her and sighing into her braid. She wondered what she’d done to land here, her fiercest enemy now her greatest love. She put her hand around the one on her abdomen and settled into his embrace.

-

The next evening, she crept out of bed and opened the small box where she kept Jake’s ring. He’d been a good husband, a fantastic father to their daughter. Jake was laughter and childish games and growing together over years. But he was gone, and she wondered how fair it was to everyone for her to cling to him for so long. He had been her husband and she would always love him; but she was no longer _in_ love with him. Maybe Marcus was right. Maybe marriage _was_ just a technicality. If it was, that was fine. But this wonderful, beautiful man who gave himself - _all_ of himself- to her deserved at very least the same in return. Taking off her ring, she slid it on the chain next to Jake’s and returned it to its box on the shelf.

Feeling lighter, she crawled into bed with Marcus- sweet, gentle, loving Marcus- and thought about the word _houmon_.


End file.
